don’t shoot the messenger

Hi all – this is Sarabeth posting on behalf of Alison…

Yesterday, while Alison and the kids and her mom were eating lunch, someone broke into the BMV and stole Alison’s laptop and some cameras.  They have reported everything to the police, complete with serial numbers, so hopefully – just maybe – it will be recovered.

The fortunate part of the event is that although passports and cash were also in the van, none of that was taken.  And, of course, that no one in that precious family was in danger.

Most of you know that Taido is in Colorado this week – so although Alison is okay, she is a bit shaken.

Also, sad to say, she will be without a computer for at least a week until he returns. So for all of us following the Chino camping adventure – well, we’ll just have to wait.  She’ll be back – but she wanted you to know why she’s not here for now.

is everything i love about canada at the grocery store?

Ok, another thing I love about Canada is that all products are labeled both in English and in French. It is such a small detail, but it’s like language study all day long. It takes me twice as long at the grocery store because I am reading both labels just for the novelty. I am standing in the store saying the words to myself and just marveling at the fact that there are two languages on everything. Look that says, “beurre!” Hey, that means butter in French. (I am hard up for entertainment, apparently.)

The double labeling has gotten me in to trouble a few times though, like yesterday morning when Cole was fixing bagels for everyone (so I could keep sitting in my chair reading), all of a sudden he said, There is something wrong with this cream cheese! It doesn’t taste right. I barely glanced up from my book to say something like, Too bad. It’s Canadian cream cheese. It was all they had at the store. You’re just going to have to flex. Be grateful you have something to eat, etc. To which he threw down the knife, passed his bagel to Simon and marched out saying, I was REALLY looking forward to those bagels this morning. I responded with all kinds of grace again about just being grateful for having something to eat at all and about the 40000+ people who will DIE today because they don’t have enough to eat so I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANY MORE ABOUT IT!! DO YOU HEAR ME?? Not to mention that he was beginning to poison all the other children’s minds about the Canadian cream cheese that they had not even yet tasted. I never got up from my seat though. I just kept reading. Then, LATER, as I was cleaning up breakfast and putting away the cream cheese, I realized that the problem was not that the cream cheese was Canadian nor that it was organic. It was garden vegetable. Apparently, in reading the French label, I had just been so enchanted with the word “jardin” that I had neglected to notice that the cream cheese was not the usual plain variety that my kids are used to eating. Oh well. I do so love the way the word garden sounds in French. Tant pis about breakfast!

happy thoughts

23		24		25		26		27
	Monday		Tuesday		Wednesday		Thursday		Friday
	Few Showers High 63°F Low 53°F Precip. 30 %		Few Showers High 75°F Low 54°F Precip. 30 %		Showers High 66°F Low 56°F Precip. 40 %		Showers High 67°F Low 52°F Precip. 60 %		Showers High 62°F Low 51°F Precip. 60 %

Things are really looking great for our return to the pop up. I’m psyching myself up for the rockin’ good time that is being hunkered down in a pop up camper with four children. We’ll probably finish like seventeen books.

Just don’t anyone tell my mama about the weather. She’s spending next week with me while my husband leaves us to go climb mountains in Colorado with teenagers.

My mama gets cold when the weather dips below like 80 degrees F. So this should be good.

for the love of rhubarb

Ok, I’m pretty sure Canada didn’t like invent rhubarb. In fact it isn’t even indigenous to North America, strangely enough, but Canada is where I have been lovingly introduced to this enticing vegetable, so I’m counting it as one of the things I love about Canada. Taido and I had this strawberry-rhubarb pie experience on Granville Island a few weeks ago that I have since been trying to repeat. But without actually going to Granville Island, not that I don’t want to go back. I do. I do. But it is a headache of a bus ride with all the crazies and so I’ve been settling for substitutes that haven’t been quite as good, but that do have all the children singing the praises of this red stalky vegetable. Then I found a pie on Smitten Kitchen that I am just dying to try, but of course, I don’t have all my pie baking things with me, so I will have to wait until another day when I am back in my own precious kitchen (sigh) to try this pie. But I have been so wanting to get my hands on the vegetable, so I could get to know it a little better. You know? Feel its textures. Wash it. Chop it. Play with it so we can be friends. So I bought some. And last night I made a strawberry rhubarb crisp in one of the three (yes THREE!) cast iron skillets that I brought with me, and let me tell you. It was dEEElish! The kids were scraping that skillet for the crumbs and begging for more. I might just have to make one more before we say goodbye to the oven, because it is official. One of the things we Chinos just LOVE about Canada is rhubarb.

Here’s the recipe I used for the crisp if you want to try.

Strawberry-Rhubarb Crisp

Place in the bottom of an 8 inch cast iron skillet

1 1/2 cups chopped strawberries

1 1/2 cups chopped rhubarb

1/4 cup turbinado sugar

2 teaspoons whole wheat flour

Mix the topping ingredients below and sprinkle on top of fruit:

1/2 cup melted butter

1/2 cup thick oats

1/2 cup whole wheat flour

1/4 cup turbinado sugar

1/2 cup chopped nuts

Bake at 400 degrees for 25-30 minutes.

Serve warm with vanilla ice cream. SOOOO good.

why i keep going back to the store for cheese

I am beginning a series of posts on things I love about Canada. I am doing this partly just to highlight the things I love and partly to take my focus off the things I don’t love, especially since most of the things I don’t love involve either the de-valuation of the US dollar or the lack of Arkansans, and those things really have nothing at all to do with Canada, except for its being the place where I happen to be experiencing them.

And so, the first thing I love about Canada is of course, the farms. The dairy farms (both cow and goat) have my particular love right now since the berries are still awaiting their moment as the stars of the summer. All the markets to which I have been carry local products, and the phrase BC made can be found all over, not just on produce but for all sorts of products. When Mary Polly and I met a lady with pink hair on the bus who was delivering papers, she made certain to tell us to go to Granville Island to eat and shop because there is NO corporate American crap over there, just pure handmade CANADIAN stuff!

When I was shopping yesterday evening at the local grocery, I saw products in the cheese case that were made by the farmers I visited last week. When I saw their label, I was like, oh I have to buy that cheese because those people are like my best friends now! Right then and there was when I recognized the brilliance of the Circle Farm Tours. If you go around and visit the farms, meet the artisans who make the cheese, milk, yogurt, etc, walk on their land and pet their animals, you begin to feel connected to the earth/farmer/animal that will make the food that you will later feel compelled, or even privileged to buy if you happen across it in your local market.

So I guess I don’t just love the farms of Canada. I love that farmers are so important to Canadians (or at least to British Columbians) that I already know about them even though I have only been in Canada for a few weeks. The interweaving and networking that has occurred to make Vancouver a locavore’s paradise must account for the fact that there are soooo many people here.

enjoying the mundane

For the last two days, the sun has been shining in Vancouver and we have drunk it in. We have walked and biked in it, basked in it at two different parks and enjoyed its warmth through the windows of our lovely house. I lied on the grass at a park yesterday for two hours and just listened to all the different accents while the kids played. Vancouver truly is an international city. Someone asked us where we were from because of our accent and Mary Polly was bewildered to discover that it is WE, who have accents and not THEM. Besides the park we haven’t ventured out to too many places. A bakery here, a small grocery there. But we have soooo enjoyed our house.

We’ve baked cookies, which was top on Mary Polly’s list of things to do while we have an oven. We have pulled out of our buried plastic tubs lots of the treasures I brought for the summer that are perfect for a rainy day, but that you can’t actually pull out in the rain. You can only fit so much inside a camper, so for the last weeks much of the entertainment I brought has remained in the van. We did a large jigsaw puzzle of Canada. Who knew there were so many provinces? I know I am revealing my total geographical ignorance here, but I have long been under the impression that there were like six or seven. A misconception we are correcting this week as we attempt to learn them all, and their capitals. Mary Polly is learning to cross stitch, with the same little pattern books from which I learned. I knew I saved those for a reason. She worked a good bit of the evening yesterday on a little koala bear. She keeps calling it “her patchwork,” because that is what Anne and Diana call their sewing. She loves to say, I must get back to my patchwork. She worked on it while I read Anne last night to her and three sleepy brothers. She is still sleeping late, but the boys are getting up much earlier without the cold and the rain to keep them snuggled into their bags. We have also pulled out the art supplies and lots more books. We are all spread and sprawled over this great house, and we are still in no danger of overcrowding it. Such luxury.

Still with all things pretty nearly perfect, we must have a few bumps in the road, ours currently being that Cole and I have spent the better part of the last week or so getting crossways with one another, culminating last night in my having to walk out of the room mid-sentence, leaving him alone on his bed for fear of boxing his ears or worse. When I came downstairs and told Taido that I was in danger of losing it with him, Mary Polly, seemingly enraptured with “her patchwork,” spouted from her corner, You knooooow, it’s kind of against the LAW to hit your kids, Mom!

Of course, I know that darling, that’s why I left the room. To avoid breaking the law.

Among other things. I went and spent a few minutes being quiet and breathing before going back upstairs to apologize to the little creton. We both decided to take a lesson from Anne and begin anew today. We had just read Anne’s words, Marilla, isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet? Marilla responds to Anne much like I’m afraid I would. She tells her that she’s certain she’ll fill it up with mistakes soon enough. But thank goodness that the Lord’s mercies are new every morning.

And they are. It is cloudy and colder today, which makes our presence in this house all the more a treasure. It’s wonderful to sit in a chair by the window that separates me from the elements. And we had these wonderful scones for breakfast with raspberry preserves, at Ben’s suggestion.

home for a week

I was remembering today a conversation that I overheard in a crowded train compartment from Florence to Venice when Taido and I were in Italy a few years ago. We had just spent several days in Florence that I had spent years carefully planning, seeing paintings and sculptures that I had only dreamed I might ever lay eyes on. Every moment had been perfect, with glorious meals in between visits to museums. We had walked and walked through the city, making friends with its sacred passageways and reveling in the delight of being together in such a place. So, it was with some horror that I listened to a several young people discuss their time in Florence with less enthusiasm than I had for this beloved city. One girl in particular expressed her disappointment in the city with complete ignorance of the fact that the jury is already out on whether or not Florence is one of the most magnificent places on earth, and therefore her opinions were not in any way adding to or taking away from Florence’s reputation, but rather only revealing a lack of ability to see beauty on her own part. However, she later confessed that she hadn’t really seen much of Florence while she was there. She had been traveling through Europe for a while, as young people do, with plenty of time, but not much money. And she had been so thrilled to discover that her hostel in Florence had free internet access that she could hardly tear herself away from being able to email and chat with friends to actually get out and see the city of Florence itself, and the weather had been rainy and cold, so it was much easier to stay in. I was sad for her that getting to travel so much had made her take Florence for granted, and again, horrified that she neglected the delights of the Uffizi for free internet access. But today, when I remembered that conversation afresh, I had a weensy bit more understanding for this poor girl. Because though the wonders and thrills of the city of Vancouver are just outside my doorstep, I have a bathtub! How could anything be better than a bathtub today? The sun is shining and I can see the waterfront from the upstairs window. I watched the sun set over it as I read to the children last night in their cozy upstairs rooms.

I don’t want to forget how wonderful are some of the luxurious pleasures that have been bestowed upon me in the last 12 hours. Among them are putting my cheek to a pillow that felt neither damp nor cold. Drinking my coffee out of a ceramic cup, the edges of which feel so good to my lips that I can’t understand how I have drunk so many times before from mugs without experiencing the wonder of how that little bit of pottery feels. I sat in bed this morning, propped up on big puffy pillows and read a chapter from a book. That may sound mundane, but friends, there are so many luxuries contained within that small sentence that you cannot possibly see, like the fact that I wasn’t wearing two coats, a hat and lots of long underwear. We had lasagna last night that we baked in an oven. And need I even mention all the bathing, the smell of my new bar of green tea soap, the washing of clothes (and blankets and sleeping bags), the cleaning out of the van and re-organizing of all the jumbled up tubs. We found all the things that have been lost to us for weeks. There are three bedrooms, one of which Mary Polly is having all to herself, while the three boys happily share. She spent hours in the organizing or her possessions last night, making her room just perfect. She got up and made not only her own bed this morning, but also the boys’ beds, to preserve the charm of the upstairs bedrooms.

All these gifts would be enough, really. More than enough. But as God’s grace is lavish, the house procured for us by my mother-in-law for this week just happens to be unbelievably nice. Even in the details, like the super soft bed linens, it is palatial. It is also in a charming neighborhood, one block from the waterfront, with breathtaking views.

But even though it would be so easy to stay shut up in this beautiful home for every minute that we have it, I will, at the beckoning of my husband who has found us a church to go to this morning, venture back out into the city on this beautiful day. It is so lovely outside, as Anne says, I am sorry for those who have not yet been born today, because they will not be able to enjoy its beauty. And so I must go, for I have a skirt to put on before we are out the door.

my love affair with canada began with fresh dairy products, and other joys

Friday evening, June 13, 2008

After spending most of Wednesday messing with our errands in town, the kids and I stayed around camp all day again on Thursday. It had rained off and on all day on Wednesday, so it was a welcome relief to have a mostly dry day yesterday, and the kids spent the day much like Tuesday. Getting muddy, getting cold, changing clothes and listening to me read, then getting muddy and cold again. They seemed adjusted to the weather more than me. I wore all my layers all day, as I sat in my chair, reading and watching them come and go. The fascination of the day was that a middle school group came and camped all around us (instead of in the 375 sites in the park that are not right next to us), providing lots to watch and even a little interaction. Cole lent out a couple of his light sabers and had some duels. The most amazing thing I saw from my bundled up state was that several of the middle schoolers changed into their bathing suits and went down to the lake, presumably to swim. We heard tales of a couple of kids actually getting in, but only for a second, but still, the fact that they were even wearing such little clothing in this weather was unfathomable to me. Equally shocking was that people paraded all day in and out of the concentration camp-like showers. And actually showered in them! I haven’t mentioned that I actually revisited the horrifying shower experience because we did eventually discover one that was lukewarm, but it was so not enough warmth to stave of the constant drafts of freezing that I cried through the entire experience and though I was later glad to be clean, I am sure I could not ever repeat the traumatizing event. But these people…they hadn’t even been out of civilization for 24 hours and here they were voluntarily subjecting themselves to such torture. I suppose what the gal at Trader Joes’s said to me last week was true…she had noticed my southern accent and asked me what I was doing up here. When our conversation turned to the weather, she said, Yeah, I noticed your hat. This is tank top weather for us! I’m sure the middle schoolers had a laugh or two at us in our bundles.

Even though we had enjoyed our day at camp with the middle schoolers and the slightly less muddy playground, I had been reading though the glut of brochures that I picked up at the local library and there was one that had more than caught my eye. It was the Circle Farm Tours. Need I even explain the stirrings in my heart that occurred when I found this set of brochures that describe self-guided driving tours to local farms. There are six brochures! One for each of the surrounding areas! After reading, nay savoring, each description of each farm, I decided that today that we would tour farms in and around Abbotsford, which every Chino will gladly tell you would happily make their new home. This town is nearly perfect, I assure you. What else could you possibly need in life besides a town full of local farms and yoga studios? If you are looking for a new place to live, go ahead and put Bellingham, Washington and Abbotsford, British Columbia on your list of places to check out. We began our tour in historic downtown Abbotsford at a bakery. The kids all chose cookies for breakfast, except Mary Polly who had a muffin, because cookies are too sweet for breakfast. I swear she said that. We also bought a few more treats for the road and then headed on to stop number one, Birchwood Dairy. The kids topped off their breakfast with ice cream cones, filled with ice cream that was made fresh right there. We got to visit the cows from which it was made, as well as a horse and some donkeys. I bought yogurt, of course. I love yogurt and am super fascinated with the process of making this incredibly healthy food. Some of you may remember that I have tried my hand at making it myself, on several occasions, actually. The only reason I would make it is that we do not have access to places as wonderful, as glorious as the dairy farms we visited today. My black raspberry yogurt was other worldly I tell you. Then, just to make the dairy seem even more like heaven, the sun came out while we were eating our ice cream and yogurt, outside at the picnic tables. The whole scene was so beautiful with the farmland all around and a little playground area for the kids. And the ladies at the dairy were so nice to us. We watched several people come and eat lunch at the little farm store, which also serves sandwiches. The kids were so happy playing that I pulled out my computer and wrote about the book I’d been reading. It was like a little breath of lovely. After I wrote for a while and they played a bit longer, we all loaded up and headed to stop number two. Some fighting on the way to the Fraser River Trout Hatchery caused Cole to miss stop number two, which was fine with him, so he sat in the van while the rest of us went to learn about trout. We learned about all the different kinds of trout, trout habitats, trout spawning and trout babies (or “fry”). I was afraid that the kids might be bored, but the exhibits were really neat. Plus there were several different ponds filled where you could watch the trout swim, which totally thrilled Simon. We got to see several great white sturgeon. I had no idea how big they are. Really big, and they can live to be more than 100 years old. Isn’t that amazing? They had this book that I read to the kids called Tale of a Great White Fish that I loved. And it is set in the Fraser River, which we were driving around all day. It is about the changes that have occurred to the sturgeon’s habitat over its long life, which has Mary Polly talking about littering and development like a member of the Green Party. Love it. And if all the free exhibits weren’t enough, the hatchery was having some sort of reception that was coming to an end, so one of the ladies who worked there invited us to share in the leftovers. So we had yummy sandwiches, fruit and veggies for lunch. For free. We even took some to Cole, who was very appreciative after his hour in the van reading. He was in a much better mood as we drove to our next stop which was a strawberry farm that does not yet have strawberries. Too much rain and cold, to which we can testify. Next we drove past millions of not yet ripe raspberry bushes to get to a bee farm, where we sampled all different kinds of honey and bought our favorite, raspberry honey to take back to camp with us. Rossdown Farm Market was next, where we didn’t buy anything but I enjoyed talking to the owner who told me that her husband had just been visiting in Arkansas to learn about chickens, which they raise and sell in their market. She was so kind, and gave me some ideas for fun places to go with the kids in the area and I really could have visited with her all day but my kids were starting to go positively wild in the place so we moved on. We passed by this beautiful nursery with the most lovely gardens, and it was on our stop list, but I just didn’t think the kids were going to respect the flowers, especially Simon at this point. We had one stop left on our list. It was getting late and I wasn’t sure when Taido wanted us to pick him up from the library, since he can’t call me. So many people had been so nice to us today, that I thought maybe we should stop while we were ahead and skip the last stop, plus Simon was falling asleep. And then I made a wrong turn down a dirt road that about sealed the deal, but something was just pulling me towards the idea of visiting a goat dairy farm. So we persevered and made it to the absolutely enchanting Goats’ Pride Dairy at McLennan Creek. I am so happy we didn’t miss this lovely experience. The lady at the goat farm told us all about the whole process. She introduced us to all the different goats…baby goats, five month olds, yearlings and those ready for milking. She let us peek in at what was being made today, yogurt. She showed us the apple trees, pear trees, walnut trees, chickens, pigs, dogs and cats in addition to goats and she even directed us towards a walk to a stream where salmon have spawned and their babies are swimming and along which grows delicate watercress. We stayed over an hour seeing everything, and then Simon woke up and the kids went all around again, showing him everything. We bought two different kinds of cheese and some yogurt, all fresh, all made right there with organic goats’ milk. Everyone said it was their favorite stop, and we loved it even more when we later ate the cheese that was so delectable we are contriving ways to go back. We said goodbye to the sweet goats and drove back to the library to pick up Taido, who was just finishing up. It was such a lovely day that now I want to do the other five circle farm tours, though I can’t imagine we could enjoy a group of farms as much as we did those in Abbotsford. It is hard to say if I am more giddy tonight because of our delightful day or at the prospect of getting to check into the house tomorrow! It feels like Christmas. I’m sure I won’t be able to sleep a wink for all the excitement.

finding our way

I finished a book this morning that I have been slowly reading since just before I left home. It’s called Finding Our Way Again. Isn’t that a great title? It’s about restoring to our lives some of the ancient traditions of faith that have given both sanity and sacredness to so many who have gone before us. The best bit is that the entire book is an introduction to a coming series which will write about each one of these traditions individually. And the really best bit is that Phyllis Tickle is the editor of the entire series, which for me, assures that it will be good. I have just in the last year or so been introduced to her writing and I find reading her to be like coming home. Her writing draws me in like the campfire draws the children. They are practically climbing into it to feel its warmth as they hover around its edges. Phyllis Tickle’s writings turn me into that hovering, excited child, both her autobiographical writing and her spiritual writing…and there is lots of crossover between the two, which is probably why I love her so much. I so appreciate the art of seeing the sacred in the everyday. To have eyes to see the miracles that are constantly around us is a skill that I hope to one day practice as well as Ms. Tickle does.

So, the great thing about reading the book to the series that is actually just an introduction is that there is no pressure. Soon to come will be all the teaching on all the different practices, right? So for now, as I read this introduction, I am free to just drink in the hope and anticipation of the series to come. And therefore to enjoy the stories, the quotes from saints of old, the history of the threefold ancient way (I particularly enjoyed this part) and general reasoning for the reintroduction of such practices into our hearts, minds and souls. But I was convinced before I ever began this book that these practices (in particular, fixed-hour prayer, Sabbath, fasting, communion, pilgrimage, the observance of sacred seasons and giving) are habits we all desperately need in our lives. About 10 years ago, I read Richard Foster’s Celebration of Discipline for the first time. I was completely enraptured by this book, to the point of distraction. I immediately went about doing exactly what Richard Foster says you shouldn’t do which is to try to master all the spiritual disciplines at once and to the purpose of being able to say that you have mastered them, which is pride, which is the greatest stumbling block one can have in a faith journey. So after driving myself a bit batty, I also had toddlers, so I am to be forgiven for all lapses in sound thinking, I RE-read Celebration of Discipline and set about to digesting about one chapter a year…or less. I have since had many conversations with people who were reading Celebration of Discipline and having similar experiences to mine, where they were overwhelmed and not sure where to start or they were trying to do the whole book at once. I still think that this book is an incredible classic and should be read over and over again, slowly, deliberately, in groups and families and all sorts of communities, but I am also super excited about a new series that is going to address one discipline at a time. I imagine that to be able to focus one’s attention and energy in the reading of an entire book on one practice will be like a yoga class just on breathing. At first you are like, What! A whole hour just on breathing? And then when it’s over you’re like MORE MORE MORE, because you didn’t realize how desperately your body needed to just breathe.

The author of Finding Our Way Again writes that much of what the series will address is restoring a kind of sacred normalcy to the rhythms of life. That sounds so appealing to me. Faith isn’t a to-do list. It’s a way of life.

As I have read through this book, I have been personally struck by a couple of things. The first is how much I am longing for the practices that are communal (even though I am not naturally a super social person), which makes me more excited for the books in the series on these particular practices. I have encountered less writing on these disciplines (an entire book on communion!) than on the more inward disciplines. The second realization I have had is that I have set myself up this summer, though not intentionally, to naturally experience a lot of the more inward disciplines. Simplicity, solitude, silence, prayer. With so much stripped away, I am naturally experiencing these more. Take simplicity for example, I feel that over the years I have truly worked towards the discipline of simplicity. Richard Foster wrote an entire book on simplicity (Freedom of Simplicity) that is very practical and was an immense help to me in finding my way through this discipline without constantly beating myself up. John Piper’s teachings on simplicity have been equally influential for me. And reading The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne this spring has further renewed and refined my desire to make my life simpler. And also the lives of my children, who have to fight more than I do, the constant social demands to both do and acquire more. Just before we left, I was cleaning out my house (to get ready to pack and to make space for a friend to stay there) and I was trying to purge everywhere, but especially with clothing. I took piles and piles of clothes out, but still there were full closets when I left. But after two weeks of camping, my clothing needs have naturally simplified themselves. I brought more than I could possibly use while we are camping, and I certainly brought entirely too many tank tops and short sleeved items. Shockingly, I even brought skirts. And though I just might put on a skirt when we check into our house (very soon!), I certainly didn’t need three or four. But I didn’t have to do any work to come to this point of simplicity. It has just been a natural consequence or benefit of the life we are currently living. All those years of trying to simplify when all I really needed to do was to move into a pop-up camper! Silence and solitude have been equally enacted upon me much the same way. I am not naturally inclined to talk to strangers (though I been braver than usual lately, necessity makes us grow!) and I am without my friends and family, and (much to those same friends and family’s chagrin) without a cell phone or even cell coverage, in many circumstances. So the stage was naturally set for me when I reached the third section of this book on finding our way, when the author introduces the ancient threefold way, to experience the first of the three which is katharsis. The author describes katharsis as the gate through which we enter the ancient way and its practices. I remember as we drove the very lonely roads of Wyoming that Taido said, I would think that if you grew up here, you would have to be the kind of person who was pretty comfortable with yourself. In a place so desolate, you would have to face your demons, and you’d be free from the influences of a lot of the world, though I fear TV is quickly reducing the good that isolation can do for a person and perhaps internet too, because just think, dear reader, that I have a voice even as I am writing this, which lessens my aloneness in the rainforests of British Columbia. But I digress. Katharsis is a sort of purging of the soul, which is simply easier to focus on without the distractions of phone or social engagements of any kind, and so I hope that being far away in Canada will help me move through katharsis and on (but not leaving katharsis behind, because you take each practice with you into the next phase) to fotosis and then all ready for theosis when I come home. Because that third one involves other people. As I read through the section on theosis at the campground yesterday, I looked up at Cole for a minute (he was swinging his light saber at Ben and Simon) and wondered if he might be ready for the threefold ancient way. It was a fleeting thought. Though he might understand it, I am pretty sure you need to actually desire the effects in your life to begin to practice it. Oh well. That is something to pray about. Handy that I already have the next book in the series, In Constant Prayer.

lots of scope for the imagination

Wednesday morning, June 11, 2008

The good thing about camping in what is not officially, but practically a rainforest is that it is like being in nature’s Emerald City. The green moss floor, the evergreen canopy and the mammoth ferns combine to create a sort of green fairy land. The bad thing about camping in a rainforest is, well, all that rain. So we have our piles of muddy clothes (and one very smelly stuffed dog) and are headed back into town to find a quiet place for Taido to study and a Laundromat for the rest of us. Ben seems to be feeling better this morning, which is a great relief. And even though it is raining, I was reminded by Anne Shirley (we started Anne of Green Gables last night) that it is impossible to be in the depths of despair in the morning. The passage where Anne explains that she likes all sorts of mornings, sunny and rainy, was fresh in my mind as we woke up to the drip drip drip, and the memory that the fact that it gets light at all is evidence that the sun has come up which is God’s mercy, even if I can’t feel it on my face.